


Words My Mother Taught Me

by stickmarionette



Category: Crazy Rich Asians (2018)
Genre: Character Study, Chinese Culture, Cultural Differences, Family Drama, Gen, In-Laws, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Racism, The Immigrant Experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 03:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17035386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickmarionette/pseuds/stickmarionette
Summary: This whole thing with Nick's family left her feeling distinctly clumsy, wishing that her Mandarin was better, less stilted, and that she had the instinctive understanding of their world that felt like her birthright.To the Chinese, 'who are you' meant 'who are your people?'For years, Rachel's only root was her mom, and through her, she learned words and phrases and meaning, and took them for herself like she was covering some classic song. And somehow her cover got through to Eleanor.





	Words My Mother Taught Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mardia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/gifts).



> My dear recipient, thank you for this prompt which gave me the opportunity to write about something so close to my heart. I hope you like this.
> 
> Thanks to shihadchick for beta reading. Any remaining mistakes are my fault.
> 
> This story incorporates certain elements of the novel Crazy Rich Asians but is firmly based on the movie.

 

> So I just wanted you to know that one day, when he marries another lucky girl who is enough for you, and you're playing with your grandkids while the tan huas are blooming and the birds are chirping, that it was because of me. A poor, raised by a single mother, low class, immigrant nobody.

 

Mandarin felt strange in Rachel's mouth, like it didn't fit right. Her teeth and tongue had no easy familiarity with the movements required for even the most common sounds. She felt paralyzingly self-conscious with each syllable, aware that she sounded awkward. Foreign.

Her mom tried - she almost never laughed when Rachel mistook trees (shù) or uncles (shū) for numbers (shù) and always loudly appreciated the effort.

It was not until Rachel was a teenager that they could even afford the after school classes her mom's friends sent their kids to. She spent the years before that listening to her few Chinese friends complain bitterly about having to go to Chinese school, and commenting that Rachel was _sooooooooo lucky she didn't have to go_.

Even then she didn't think 'lucky' was quite right. Not when she saw the effort her mom had to make, begging her coworkers for old picture books and having textbooks shipped from China and skipping meals, just so she could painstakingly teach Rachel the basics. And not just vocabulary and sentence structure, but slang and idioms too.

As her mom kept saying, this was her precious birthright, something most other people didn't have, and she wasn't going to let her daughter lose it.

 

*

 

十指连心

_"Uh - the fingers link to the heart? Is that it?"_

_"Yes. Very good, Daughter."_

_"But what does it_ mean _?"_

_Kerry ruffled her hair, laughing at her escape attempt. "It means that you're very very precious to me, like you're a part of my body. Connected to my heart."_

 

*

 

The whole time Rachel was growing up, the other Asian kids she knew were constantly jealous. Not because she had money or nice things - at the beginning, they had nothing, and it showed - but because of her mom.

Her friends gawked wide-eyed when she casually finished off phone calls with _'I love you too!_ ' or hugged her mom hello and goodbye.

Or, as Wendy-whose-dad-was-Kerry's-coworker sighed, "Gosh, you're so lucky. Auntie Kerry isn't like a Chinese mom at all."

Rachel personally thought Wendy was a spoiled little shit who got everything handed to her on a silver platter, and slightly resented having to hang out with her just because their parents were friendly. "Your mom is nice to you."

Wendy pouted. "When she's not telling me off, you mean."

"She's only doing that because she loves you and wants the best for you," Kerry said sternly.

"She has a funny way of showing it."

"Wendy…"

Wendy threw up her hands. "What? It's all respect this and duty that. Not just mum, _yeye nainai_ [1] too. It's like they're all dead inside."

"That's not true," Kerry said, mild but very firm. "We just express our feelings differently. And sometimes we say one thing when we mean something else."

 

**[PRESENT DAY]**

 

After they got off the plane with copious apologies - brushed off by the cabin staff, who couldn't stop _aww_ ing and congratulating them - Nick offered to call a car for them.

"I know you probably don't want to stay at my parents' place - "

"Probably better if I don't," Rachel said dryly.

Nick didn't even wince. He still looked like all his dreams had come true at once, almost boyishly delighted, like he could take off into the air unassisted.

"We can go to the Intercontinental, I'm sure they'll fit you in."

Rachel's first instinct was to say yes. She wanted nothing more than a room with a lock where she could keep kissing him and not have to stop. But after all that had happened, that probably wasn't smart. It'd be like a teetotal downing a full bottle of whiskey in one go. Best to ease back into it.

Besides, there was her mom to think of. Her mom, who was beaming like she'd won the lottery. Or more accurately, like Rachel had.

Nick could sense her wavering; he pounced. "C'mon, Rachel, let me spoil you for once. I owe it to you."

The way he looked at her always made her feel good. Right now she felt precious, valued beyond price.

"All right."

 

*

 

The Intercontinental was as glamorous as she'd expected, but not so oppressive about it that she automatically hunched her shoulders walking through the door, and she could appreciate the understated elegance of the lobby and the sparse suites Nick led them to, no check-in required.

Rachel woke all at once, later that night, with no idea of why. The bed was gloriously comfortable, the room was cool, and the horrible pit that had been in her stomach the past week was gone as if it had never been there.

She pulled herself up with exaggerated care, trying not to disturb Nick, and padded on silent feet to the kitchenette for a glass of water. Stopped dead at the sight of the brown envelope, pushed through the crack below the wood-panel door.

_Snap out of it, idiot. It doesn't have fangs._

Even so, she inched forward gingerly and picked it up with as few fingers as possible. It was a full envelope, barely sealed.

_ATT RACHEL CHU_

_PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL_

Rachel glanced back over at Nick - still dead to the world by all appearances and snoring gently, which was adorable - before carefully tearing it open.

A thick stack of documents tumbled out into her hands. She caught a glimpse of the top file - _FINAL REPORT - RACHEL CHU INVESTIGATION_ \- and almost dropped the whole lot.

It was all there - photos, newspaper clippings, police records, even her birth certificate - and as she flipped the acute nausea she'd felt that night at Colin and Araminta's reception rose up and threatened to choke her again.

Then she hit a page titled _Identification of Rachel Chu's Father_ and stopped dead, frozen in place, unable to turn the page or even look down far enough to read the rest.

No, Rachel had had enough revelations in the past few weeks to last a lifetime. She deserved a few days off.

She shoved the stack back in the envelope, tucked it into her suitcase and got back into bed. They'd left the aircon up and Nick automatically curled toward her in his sleep. His warmth and solidarity relaxed her and she let out a long breath. She could wait.

 

*

 

恩重如山

_"That part means heavy like a mountain - what's so heavy? That first character?"_

_"_ En. _You know what that means?"_

_"I think so. But I don't know how to say it."_

En _was something like debt; Rachel heard it used a lot in the cheesy costume dramas Kerry watched. It meant someone had done something for you and you owed them._

_"Then you probably have it right."_

 

*

 

 

*

 

Oliver was right. Nick was delighted.

"Oliver throws great parties. We should go. I mean, if you feel like it."

"Okay, lemme find something to wear. I can't imagine him throwing a party that's not ridiculously swanky."

"And you would be right." Nick hesitated. "The only thing is - "

"What?"

"He'll have invited family. A lot of family."

Well, she had to face the music sooner or later. "That's fine. Don't worry about it."

 

*

 

Of course Oliver's party was at a fancy, impossibly cool art gallery, in a building that looked like an enormous swan with its wings extended. Even the suits on the waiters wandering around offering glasses of Dom Perignon and tiny delicate plates of tapas looked bespoke.

Rachel was thankful she'd worn one of the other extremely Occasion dresses Peik Lin had pressed on her as they were looking for a wedding outfit. She didn't look too out of place, and plus, Nick couldn't take his eyes off her.

It wasn't a patch on Astrid's perfectly draped and fitted white jumpsuit - complemented by a gorgeous pair of pearl drop earrings - but what was? Half the room stopped to stare at her as she glided into the gallery, and the other half was only slightly sneakier about it.

Then Astrid spotted Rachel and Nick, broke into a smile that made her seem more like a human woman rather than some Grecian muse, and hurried over to them.

"Nicky! Rachel! Good to see you."

Rachel waited patiently for her turn to give Astrid a very firm hug. "How are you, Astrid?"

Astrid's placid model-like smile made a return. "I'm okay."

"You look amazing," Rachel said hurriedly. She'd kept Astrid's secret from even Nick, and this was so not the time or the place.

"Thank you. You look happy."

"I am." Rachel couldn't resist flashing her ring.

Astrid's jaw dropped. She glanced at Nick in disbelief, saw him nod, and pulled Rachel into another, even more enthusiastic hug.

"Congratulations! That's wonderful. I knew you'd get there. Nick watched too much _wuxia_ [2] as a kid. He's been preparing for a grand gesture all his life."

Amazingly, Nick blushed. "Yeah, and you watched it with me."

"Guilty," Astrid said. "Those shows may have given us some warped expectations about romance."

Nick laughed and laughed til he abruptly pulled up short and visibly straightened his back. "Sorry, Auntie Lee is waving me over, I better go. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Go."

Nick pecked her on the lips and went.

"How's - " Rachel glanced around and swallowed the rest of the question. "You know."

"I'm fine. I can live with what I've chosen," Astrid said softly. One of her hands went to tug at an earring. "Just - my parents being their usual selves. Duty this and obligation that. Sometimes it feels like that's all that holds any family together."

"What, obligation? It's just our version of love, isn't it?" Rachel said, kind of as a joke, half-remembering her mom's words.

She caught Eleanor, just passing by and flagging down a waiter, giving her a startled look.

 

*

 

Oliver greeted Rachel by bowing down to her ring like it was some ancestor's grave.

"You didn't tell me Nick's mom was here!" Rachel hissed into his ear.

"It's fine, it's fine. Aren't you all good now?" Oliver replied breezily.

Rachel bit her lip. "I...I don't know."

Across the room, Eleanor was busy fixing Nick's collar. The proud, indulgent look on her face gave Rachel a strange pang in her chest. Nick glanced back, saw her staring, and she gave him a reassuring grin she didn't feel.

Then an older woman cut across her field of vision. The room went briefly still as she strode across it, dressed in a glittering, figure-hugging off-the-shoulder gown, dripping with jewels.

Oliver followed Rachel's gaze with a knowing grin. "Oh, that's Jacqueline Ling. Amanda's lovely mother."

"I think I met her at Nick's grandma's party. Is she a friend of yours?"

Oliver's grin acquired bite. "Ah...more a family friend. Ah Ma invites her to our gatherings, mostly to make Auntie Eleanor feel bad."

"What?"

" _She's_ the one Ah Ma wanted Uncle Philip to marry."

Jacqueline certainly fit the image of a bored, rich, cosseted society wife more than Eleanor. She looked like she belonged in a room with Nick's aunts, gossiping over sweets.

"What was so wrong with Auntie Eleanor?"

To Rachel, Eleanor seemed to fit into Ah Ma's estate and all the attendant trappings like she'd been born to it.

"Auntie Eleanor is a Sung. Respectable, but _so_ fusty and common. Jacqueline comes from a family almost as aristocratic as Ah Ma's. See those diamonds she's wearing? Those are from Ah Ma's own collection."

Rachel winced. Even a newcomer like her could easily understand the message in that. She resisted the urge to glance back over at Eleanor, a task made easier by the appearance of Nick's cousin Eddie, looking like he could barely move in his sharp suit.

"Rachel Chu! Nice to see you!"

Rachel willed herself into a smile. "Hi, Eddie. Good to see you too."

Eddie seemed not to notice her discomfort. Then again, he did have a formidable flush going on. And a bit of a slur when he shout-spoke. "Hey, I heard a rumor that your dad's one of those super rich Mainlanders. You should introduce me!"

What was that word her mom would use?

忍, right. Forbearance. (Also ninjas.)

She'd say, _"Be proud - you've got a lot to be proud of. But you have to know when to hold it in too. Use your brain."_

Rachel was going to be part of the family, after all.

"Maybe he is. You'll be the first to know," she said lightly.

Oliver cut in before Eddie could respond. "Forget all that - seen Kitty Pong lately? How is poor Alistair?"

Eddie spat out a mouth full of Dom Perignon. Oliver nursed him through the subsequent coughing fit, face full of concern, and hid his grin very well, except for the single moment his eyes met Rachel's.

"Someone get this man a glass of water!"

"I'm fine," Eddie gasped between coughs. "Alistair's, uh, moping."

"You missed all the drama," Oliver said, off Rachel's inquiring look. "It was at Colin and Araminta's tea ceremony. We caught Kitty and Bernard Tai in flagrante delicto, if you know what I mean."

"Wait, Kitty and _Bernard_?"

"Oh yes. My eyes still haven't recovered from seeing her fingers up his - "

Eddie cleared his throat very loudly.

Oliver grinned. "Oh, sorry, where's that glass of water? Lord, can you believe the level of service around here? I'm going to make a complaint."

 

*

 

" - Cousin Eddie's actually thrilled, you see. Ah Ma wouldn't have tolerated Alistair and Kitty for a moment and they couldn't have hid it from her for much longer. Imagine, an _actress_ in the family! The shame!"

Oliver could probably have gone on in this vein for quite some time, and normally Rachel would've let him, but. Something about all this set off her finely tuned sense of bullshit.

"Oliver, can I ask you something?"

"Go right ahead," Oliver said, his eyes suspiciously twinkly.

"Why are you being so nice to me? Who put you up to this?"

"No one!" Oliver cried. "I'm offended at the mere suggestion. Just helping a fellow outsider out."

Rachel laughed. "When your Ah Ma hates my guts? And it's not just you. Everyone is being suspiciously nice. Auntie Felicity said hi to me before. Even Eddie was trying. I think."

She exchanged skeptical looks with Oliver. "In his own way," Oliver said reluctantly.

Not to mention the hotel -

"Oliver, who owns the Intercontinental?"

Oliver began to grin. "Nice, isn't it? I think you know."

"Humor me."

"I believe Auntie Eleanor has a decent shareholding."

Ha. She knew it.

"Nick didn't say anything."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure he was ordered not to."

The hotel suite, Oliver - and the envelope under her door too, she remembered in a flash - it all added up to - what?

 

*

 

怨

_"That's the character for heart on the bottom, I can see that."_

_"_ Yuan _is the opposite of_ En _. Does that help?"_

_The two were often run together in the cheesy dramas Kerry watched. The opposite of owing someone -_

_"So it means to hold a grudge?"_

_"It's more serious, more bitter than a grudge, but - yes. It can last for generations."_

_"Doesn't everything in China?"_

 

*

 

Rachel accepted the invitation and thought better of it immediately, but backing out felt like cowardice, and Rachel Chu had never and would never be accused of lacking nerve. Nick reacting like she'd just announced she was getting into a pit of snakes only made her more determined. She'd hardly seen what fear looked like on that astonishingly symmetrical face.

"What's up with you? You're more nervous than me!"

Nick chuckled. "No I'm not." A pause. "You sure you're gonna be okay meeting my mum?"

"Yep. Relax, we're just gonna talk," Rachel said with far more assurance than she felt. "There's a lot to talk about. Don't you think?"

Nick shook his head. "That's what scares me."

 

*

 

The truth was that the whole thing had rattled her deeply, even beyond the heartbreak. It wasn't just losing Nick that rooted her to the guest bed at Peik Lin's for days on end. Eleanor's actions had overturned her sense of self, made her question everything all over again, years after she finally reached a place of comfort with who she was.

It wasn't just the revelation about her father, either. She'd heard the words _Mainlander_ or _ABC_ more in the last few weeks than the rest of her life put together, even though she recognized herself in neither. She'd never even been to China.

Her _jaxiang_ , the place she was from, was somewhere she had only ever seen in photos and grainy video, associated with Mao and funny outfits and crop farms and grinding poverty; and in recent years, with explosive development, a fascinating subject of academic interest.

Rachel used to joke that she was about as Chinese as Communism. Depending on what the audience knew about China and/or Communism, it worked a bunch of different ways.

As a kid, following Kerry from small town to small town all over the US, boarding above whichever Chinese restaurant Kerry was working at, everything about Rachel stuck out like a sore thumb - her nose, her skin, her eyes, the food she ate, their lack of friends or family.

The other kids laughed at her weird gross smelly food (leftovers from the restaurant, regional specialties that she watched her mom slave over for hours), stole her tea eggs (" _why are they brown, they look off, are you gonna eat them? Ewwwwwww"_ ), pulled their eyes back and ran after her yelling nonsense words like ching-chong.

She'd yell back, insult anything she could think of, make a fight of it, make 'em laugh. Fit in or fit herself in by force if that was what it took. And then they'd up and move.

Her school reports said she was adaptable, resilient, a quick learner. And she ran away from the other, different parts of her, almost as a survival mechanism, asking her mom to get her the same bland foods her friends at school had, watching TV to learn what she was supposed to do and say and look like and laugh at, always fitting in and never acknowledging to herself that she was doing anything of the kind.

 _You're basically white, Rachel_ , as she'd heard way too many times, and it stung every single time. She was whatever she had to be, that was all.

She'd tried harder to learn as she got older, after she moved to New York and started having Asian classmates and friends, to reclaim it, to do justice to the _Chinese_ part of Chinese-American, but it was difficult to reverse the habit of those early years.

This whole thing with Nick's family left her feeling distinctly clumsy, wishing that her Mandarin was better, less stilted, and that she had the instinctive understanding of their world that felt like her birthright.

To the Chinese, 'who are you' meant 'who are your people?'

For years, Rachel's only root was her mom, and through her, she learned words and phrases and meaning, and took them for herself like she was covering some classic song. And somehow her cover got through to Eleanor.

 

*

 

By all rights it should all be over by now. Rachel won; she'd earned her happily ever after. Or so a more naive person might have thought. She'd known what she was choosing, and part of that was re-engagement with a person who'd caused her so much pain.

Her mom didn't raise a quitter.

 

*

 

Nick's parents lived at the top of an enormous glass tower set on top of a Victorian, wide-columned mansion like a very tall fancy hat.

"It's the penthouse suite - you'll be seeing it before I have, mum just moved in after the renovations," Nick had explained as Rachel bustled around checking everything on her twice.

"I'm sure it's insanely fancy but also suitably tasteful," Rachel had said, trying for light. She hoped Nick couldn't feel how sweaty her palms were.

As the elevator doors slid open and she caught sight of the penthouse foyer, with its top to bottom glass panes lit up with the fading afternoon light, she realized for the hundredth time that she'd underestimated something about Nick's family.

There was just no way not to feel overawed in the face of this kind of ridiculous luxury, unless one had grown up with it. At least no way that she knew.

Eleanor stood in the middle of a large sitting room with a high vaulted ceiling, dotted with stained-glass skylights flooding the space with multi-hued light, dressed in exquisitely tailored linen trousers and a rust-red draped top. Not only did she look like she belonged; she looked like a scary high-powered lawyer on her way to bust some kneecaps.

Rachel shook herself. Feeling out of place and intimidated but making it work was practically her brand.

"Thank you for inviting me into your home, Auntie Eleanor."

Eleanor nodded graciously. It was as if their last meeting never happened. "You're welcome. What do you think?"

"It's lovely," Rachel said honestly.

"Smaller than you expected?"

The penthouse couldn't possibly be described as small unless one's standard was the grand manor Nick and his dad had grown up in.

"Not at all. I've had smaller lecture halls," Rachel said. She regretted her attempt at humor immediately, but Eleanor chuckled.

"I thought we could have afternoon tea in the kitchen, if that suits."

"That sounds great."

Eleanor glanced to the side. "Ah Lan? Is the kitchen ready?"

A serious-looking young Chinese woman appeared, dressed simply in black slacks and a white polo. "Yes, Mrs Young," she said in lightly accented English. "Ma'am, would you like me to take your bag?"

Rachel realized with a start that she was being addressed. "Um, that's fine. Thanks."

 

*

 

门当户对

_"Something about doors matching?"_

_Kerry laughed. "Yes - and no. It's a metaphor for family. It means that in a couple the families should be a match for each other too."_

_"Like rich and poor?"_

_"Not just that. But yes."_

_"So Cinderella, that's wrong and bad?"_

_"I didn't say that."_

_Rachel shook her head. "That sucks!"_

 

*

 

Rachel recognized Ah Lan even though they'd never met; she could've been one of Rachel's high school friends, or a co-worker at one of her part-time gigs waiting tables and operating cash registers. She seemed so much more familiar than some of these snobby rich people with their stupidly large houses and their designer clothes, who'd never worked a day in their lives.

Rachel had grown up poor but not as acutely aware of it as she might've been. Her mom was good with money and spent whatever they had making Rachel comfortable and making sure she wasn't ever going to be embarrassed at school. Still, she knew the value of it, and by the time Kerry hit it big as a real estate agent she'd started making her own petty cash.

Nick had seemed so familiar that way too - he was hilariously cheap, but not in the way of some of her past boyfriends, penny-pinchers who abhorred paying for fun or convenience; he just enjoyed the simple things and wasn't wasteful.

She could never have imagined that this was how he grew up.

Ah Lan led them into a hallway dotted by framed paintings. Rachel's nervous gaze landed on one of the smaller frames and she recognized with a start a young, fresh-faced Eleanor arm in arm with a handsome man with a marked resemblance to Nick. Behind them was the famous Bridge of Sighs.

"Did you like it? Cambridge?"

"No, not really," Eleanor admitted. "But my parents were proud."

Rachel laughed nervously. "I know how that goes. My mom's always bragging about me to her friends."

Eleanor's face softened, just a little. "All parents do, when there is anything at all to say."

The hallway opened out into an enormous kitchen with plenty of marble, stainless steel surfaces and a commercial-grade stove, and Rachel felt a pang of honest-to-god envy, thinking of the tiny kitchen in her New York apartment. Frankly she couldn't be blamed - any keen home cook would swoon with jealousy at this set-up.

At the far end was a stone-top bench already set for two. A record player with the volume set low played soft music she didn't recognize.

As they took their seats opposite each other, Ah Lan appeared with a tray bearing two small ceramic bowls of golden broth.

"Silkie chicken soup[3]. My cook's special recipe."

Rachel vaguely remembered seeing a similar dish on the menu at one of the nicer restaurants Kerry worked for. The difficulty of obtaining silkie chicken for cooking in East Lansing had rendered it entirely theoretical, kind of a brag.

"It smells amazing."

Eleanor raised the bowl, took a delicate sniff and set it back down with a tiny satisfied nod. "Take a sip and tell me something."

 _Yuan_ and _En_ , Rachel remembered. The holding of both grudges and debts.

"Can I talk first? I...I'm not angry. Not at the moment," she said, and found it was true even as the words hit the air. Eleanor nodded. "What I am is a little confused. Don't get me wrong, your support means a lot to Nick. So it means a lot to me too."

Eleanor's mouth twisted just a little. "What I've done hardly qualifies as support."

Rachel held up her hand and began to count. "There's the Intercontinental. Which is lovely, you have great taste. Thank you for letting us stay."

A minute change of expression, too quick to catch, flashed across Eleanor's face. She said nothing.

"And Oliver - he's a great ally to have, that was thoughtful."

"He's a useful young man," Eleanor agreed, as noncommittal as if they were discussing the weather, which didn't help Rachel's nerves any. But she steeled herself and went on.

"And then there's the file. The dossier you had done on me. You gave me the whole thing. Didn't you?"

"I don't know what you mean," Eleanor said. Her lovely face remained still as marble, and then it cracked and she smiled. "This is not an apology."

"All right."

"I thought you might find the information on your father useful."

Rachel nodded. She took a careful sip of the broth. It tasted as good as it smelled.

 

*

 

爱不释手

_"Love - no - let go? Don't let go of something you love?"_

_"Actually, not quite. It means you love something so much that you can't let go of it."_

_"Is that good or bad?"_

_"It can be both."_

_"Chinese is silly."_

_"Rachel!"_

 

*

 

After they finished the broth Ah Lan bought them a full tea set made of delicate white ceramic and a tower of local sweets and pastries Rachel had never seen before.

Eleanor stared into her steaming cup like it held the secrets of the universe for a long moment, sighed, set the cup and saucer down and glanced back up at Rachel.

"Actually, I should thank you. So many years toiling under Old Lady[4] and I almost lost it all anyway. If it weren't for you, I might have."

"People make poor decisions when they're afraid of losing," Rachel said carefully. "You're not alone in that."

Eleanor laughed, a quick, brittle sound. Suffering was difficult to spot on someone so armored up, but Rachel had years of practice and could see it for what it was, now that she was face to face with it.

"There was no win for me - I only wanted better for Nick. I think you can understand. You're a Chinese woman. You're not afraid of making difficult decisions. We don't need to sit around talking about it, we don't seek credit. We just do it."

 

*

 

_They'd been living in New Jersey for a while. The restaurant owner was pretty nice as they went and Kerry was able to keep studying towards her realtor license around her working hours._

_Rachel was coming out of a Walmart with her hand in Kerry's when she bumped into a tall man, jostling his bags and sending some cans flying._

_"Fuck!"_

_Rachel froze, unsure what to do, scared of the man's outburst and his glare._

_Kerry immediately kneeled down and began picking up the cans he'd dropped. "I'm so sorry, here, let me help - "_

_The man snatched the cans out of her hands. "Go back to China! We don't want you here!" he snarled before stomping off._

_Rachel had to try multiple times before she finally remembered how to speak. "S-Sorry, mom. It's all my fault -"_

_She was cut off by Kerry enveloping her in a forceful hug. "No, it's okay. It's okay. C'mon, let's just go."_

_Neither of them spoke as they got into Kerry's battered old Ford. Rachel finally burst out with it as they turned out of the carpark, unable to stand the terrible look on Kerry's face. "Mom?"_

_"Yes, daughter?"_

_"Why'd that man say that to us?"_

_"He's just jealous," Kerry said lightly, as if she didn't look as upset as she'd been when the restaurant in East Lansing closed down._

_"No, what did he mean, go back? We live here."_

_Kerry took a deep breath. "That's right, daughter. China is very old. But America's a baby country. We have just as much right to be here as he does."_

_Rachel considered this for a while. "Mom, were you scared? To come here?"_

_"Of course I was. Didn't matter that I was scared. I had to, for both of us, so I did it. You understand?"_

 

*

 

"I don't know if that sounds like me," Rachel said. "I'm flattered you think so. But it really reminds me of what my mom did for me."

Eleanor nodded. "It must not have been easy bringing a child up by herself there. Keeping the language too. I know that can be difficult."

Rachel was surprised to find herself giggling. "You have no idea. I didn't make it easy."

"You seem close," Eleanor said carefully.

"We are."

Eleanor smiled. Almost wistful, if steel could be wistful. "That's precious."

It came out of her mouth unbidden - "You're close to Nick too."

Eleanor sighed, and the exhale worked some kind of magic, took something out of her. At the end of it she seemed wearier than ever. "Am I? Still?"

"Yes. He adores you. It's so obvious," Rachel said, not bothering to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

Eleanor's mouth quirked. "Thank you."

"It's true. That's why I'm doing this."

"I have to warn you - living with Old Lady's disapproval will be very difficult," Eleanor said. "Do you know how long it took her to allow me into the kitchen at her house?"

"Oliver told me about Jacqueline."

Eleanor laughed her brittle laugh. "Ah. Yes. And Old Lady still taunts me with her. More than ever now that I've failed to bring Nick back to her. She blames me for all of it."

"You haven't failed."

"I have," Eleanor said quietly, as if it hurt to say. "After all our sacrifices, it'll all be for nothing if Nick alienates her permanently."

"We can turn it around," Rachel insisted. Based on what, she didn't know. Sheer gumption, probably.

"Ah, American optimism," Eleanor said, half-scornful and half-teasing.

"I believe in Nick."

"Yes." Eleanor inclined her head. "We have that in common. You were right before. When I gave Nick my ring I invested in you. You should know something: I make good investment decisions and I protect my investments."

Eleanor leaned forward as she spoke and her dark, glittering eyes bore into Rachel's. It was hard to keep meeting them, but she did with all the mettle she possessed.

"I. Thank you. I'll do my best. You won't regret it."

She must've stumbled upon the right thing to say; Eleanor sat back and was suddenly back to the cool inscrutable matriarch. It was as if a spell had broken. 

"Is your mother enjoying Singapore?"

"We haven't really had the chance to see the sights," Rachel admitted. "I was going to take her this week."

"I - " Eleanor paused and sipped tea to cover the hesitation. "I'd like to take her to dinner."

"I'm sure she'll be happy to."

Kerry was in fact all for getting to know Eleanor better, now that they were in-laws. Everything else didn't seem to matter as much, which would've been weird if Rachel didn't get it. Family and all that.

In the brief silence, the record player went onto the next track and a glockenspiel-tinged prelude gave way to a soft female voice singing in Mandarin: _you ask me how deeply I love you_.

Rachel immediately recognised the song as [_The Moon Represents My Heart_.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bv_cEeDlop0)[5] Teresa Teng's sweet voice filled the silence, bringing back memories of long cross-country trips with her mom, clutching a battered Walkman, one bud in her ear and the other in Kerry's.

"I never properly understood this song," Rachel admitted.

Eleanor looked briefly startled, then thoughtful. "I'm surprised you know it - but I probably shouldn't be. There's more than one possible interpretation, isn't there?"

"What do you think it means? I always thought the moon was a strange thing to compare her heart to when I was a kid. It's always changing."

Eleanor shook her head. "No, she invokes the moon because it's constant. It's true that you don't always see it, but it's always there. Don't you think?"

**Author's Note:**

> > “I love the fact that all of the women are agents of change in their own lives,” Chan, 36, points out about the film’s quartet of heroines. “They’re not waiting to be rescued by anyone.” Adds Awkwafina, 30: “If you look at it, men almost do play a supporting role to the woman’s power.”
>> 
>> Wu, 36, also agrees. “We all make quiet sacrifices,” she says, “and we don’t need to be patted on the back.” [[source](https://ew.com/movies/2018/11/29/crazy-rich-asians-ew-entertainers-of-the-year/)]
> 
> 1 Grandpa and grandma.
> 
> 2 Genre of Chinese fiction, featuring warriors capable of superhuman feats who have a lot of emotions, follow codes of behaviour and die for love a lot.
> 
> 3 Silkie chicken soup is a delicacy thought to have medicinal properties, particularly for women.
> 
> 4 Old Lady is what Eleanor calls Ah Ma in the book. It's actually a reasonably respectful way to refer to a mother-in-law. Kind of.
> 
> 5 [A venerable C-Pop classic](http://www.sinosplice.com/learn-chinese/the-moon-represents-my-heart), [most famously sang by Teresa Teng](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bv_cEeDlop0), the legendary pop icon whose other most famous song is briefly heard in Crazy Rich Asians. 
> 
> Everyone of a certain age across East Asia knows this song. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading. Comments are greatly appreciated.


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